Grey's Therapy
by Mustardlover16
Summary: Derek's wrist continues to pain him months after the plane accident, and he has trouble staying in high spirits. Meredith struggles to help him. Short multi-chapter. Some angst and lots of fluff. Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

Meredith sighed heavily into her pillow. She was seriously pissed off. She rolled over carefully, so as to avoid waking her sleeping husband, and checked her bedside clock. 1:38. Damn. Meredith knew from experience that at this point, she would not be falling asleep tonight _. Damn!_

Among the many things that pissed Meredith off, one of the biggies was not being able to sleep, especially since she had trained herself to sleep anywhere and everywhere during her first year as an intern. If she could sleep on a waiting room chair in a noisy hospital, she should be able to fall asleep in her own house, in her own bed, with her husband. Meredith glanced loathfully at the clock. 1:49. Shit.

Meredith began to curse internally. Ever since the damn plane had crashed, Meredith and Derek had had trouble sleeping. Tonight, however, Derek seemed to be blissfully unaffected. Meredith briefly considered turning off the nightlight which was plugged in across the hall outside their bedroom door, but knew it would only increase her sleeplessness. Derek and Meredith had slowly weaned themselves off the need to sleep with all the lights in the house on, but Meredith had purchased the nightlight and solemnly jammed it in the outlet after the pairs' string of sleepless nights.

Knowing there was only two things that would calm her down, she got out of bed carefully, gently slipping her pillow under the arm Derek had slipped across her waist. Number One was Derek, but she couldn't bare to wake him up- at least one of them was sleeping.

She crossed the house in a catlike fashion to Number Two. Upon entering Zola's room, she reached into the crib and expertly picked up both the toddler and her blankie without much disruption. Holding the sleeping child to her chest, she made her way to the living room, stepping over toys, weaving around the coat rack that still held Lexi's favorite coat. Zola's breathing was soft and even. Meredith matched her breathing with Zola's and allowed her tense shoulders to relax a fraction of an inch.

Zola was Derek and Meredith's new touchstone. Of course, Zola had always been a bright spot in their lives, and they had always loved her, but since the plane fiasco, Derek and Meredith stuck to Zola like flies to honey. Derek especially, since he was spending less time at work. Ugh. Work. Tension once again crept its way into Meredith's shoulders as she searched for the clock on the mantel. 2:17. Crap. Crap, crap, crapity crap-crap.

Tomorrow Meredith was scheduled to do her first solo multi-organ transplant. A man had come in with Hemochromatosis. The overload of iron had screwed his liver. The poor bastard had no relatives whose blood type matched his, so while he waited for his liver both of his kidneys quit on him. The donor organs were found in a brain dead patient who had been in a multi-car pile up just before Meredith had left the hospital for the evening. They were giving the family 7 hours to come and say goodbye before the poor girl of 26 would give her life so that the grumpy man in room 317 might live.

In other words, tomorrow was a big day. A very big day. A very big day which would require her to be well rested and on the top of her game. Sighing again, Meredith reached for a medical text which was stuffed in between a few of the cushions. She flipped to the page she had dog eared about multi-organ transplants and settled a little deeper into the couch. Zola's breath against her neck, her own spine sunk deep into the couch and the medical journal balanced on one knee, Meredith's eyes finally began to become heavy.

Meredith woke at Derek's gentle urging. "Hmm." She moaned defiantly.

"Meredith." Her eyes opened slowly to the sight of her delightfully sleep ruffled husband, head tilted, smiling, but a deep concern clearly pulling at the corner of his eyes. She had been getting that look about as much as she had been bestowing it on him, everytime he rolled or bent his stiff, painful wrist. "You're alarm clock went off." He said in answer to her sleepy, questioning glance.

"Oh. Sorry." She acknowledged regretfully. She had set it to 3:30, so that she could be at the hospital bright and early for her big surgery. So much for Derek getting sleep.

"Don't be." He said understandingly, reaching out to take Zola from Meredith.

Meredith pushed herself off from the couch slowly. "Coffee."

"Go for it." Meredith trudged into the kitchen as Derek took Zola back to her room, but she perked up at the sight that greeted her. A fresh brewed, large, steaming cup of coffee-black with a _drop_ of milk- and four pieces of toast spread with butter and strawberry jam. Her husband entered the kitchen baby-less.

"That kid would make a great surgeon. She could sleep through an earthquake." Meredith glared at Derek playfully, and Derek quickly knocked on wood.

"God, Derek, why not just hold a neon sign that says, 'hey world, take your best shot!'" Meredith said around a mouth full of toast.

"Sorry, won't happen again, _dear._ "

"Ah, I have trained you well." Derek scoffed laughingly at that, and Meredith shot him his favorite of her smiles. It was the half smile, which tugged happily at one corner of her mouth. It was the smile which she said she was trying not to smile, but she couldn't help but do so. It was also almost exclusively reserved for her husband. Derek smiled back warmly, full-on McDreamy, but he flexed his wrist behind the counter, trying to relieve the pain.

Meredith was not easily fooled, nor was she pleased that he was attempting to hide from her. "So how bad is it right now?"

Derek considered telling her it didn't hurt, but knew it would amount to nothing more than a well practiced glare from his wife. "It's about a four. Maybe a five." He shrugged, as if that would lighten the tone of the conversation.

"So a 7, then?" It was almost scary how perceptive Meredith had become of him. Derek did not give a reply. He didn't need to. "What did the physical therapist say?" She asked, extended her hand out to Derek's. He allowed her to take his wrist, but only just.

"He gave me a few more exercises, thinks I could ramp it up a bit more. Callie agrees, says I'll be back in the OR before I know it." He added the last part ruefully.

Meredith's deft fingers kneaded and rubbed circles around the joints and scar on Derek's left wrist. "Oh." Derek's head lowered to the cool counter, his body bending at the waist. Meredith had always been a quick study, but the speed at which she learned how to stave of the sharp pains and aches Derek felt daily was truly astonishing. And truly wonderful. He loved his wife.

"Sorry, Derek." She whispered several minutes later. He felt her kiss the top of his head. She relinquished his injured wrist and rubbed his shoulder with the heel of her palm firmly. "I gotta get to the Hospital."

He flexed his wrist appreciatively. No pain. "I have the best wife ever. Did you know that?" He kissed her soundly on the mouth once, twice, three times for good measure.

"I had my suspicions. When she comes by, you should introduce me." She smiled teasingly.

"You'd like her." He joked back, pecking her lips once again. She obliged, then turned, no doubt off to get dressed. He _almost_ let her get away, before snaking his hand out to grab her wrist and pull her backwards for one last kiss. When once again they came up for a breath of air, she placed her hand on his shoulder, pushing back and shaking her index finger at him with mock disapproval.

"See you later, Derek." She had a smile in her voice.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek was having a terrible day. He hated teaching at the hospital. Hated it. And that's saying something. He could almost always find something to like about anything. But not teaching surgical techniques. It made him feel old, washed out, and useless. Not to mention the fact that he was training people who knew of his former prowess as a surgeon, and now saw him reduced to the classroom.

It didn't help that Meredith's own surgical career was skyrocketing, as proven by her solo multi-organ transplant. He wasn't jealous of her, per say. He just wished it could be him. He just wished he could be doing what she was doing. Of course, he was proud of Meredith. Very proud. In fact, he couldn't remember being too much prouder of her than he was the moment she was awarded the solo. Bailey had asked him to come with her to tell Meredith. She thought Derek might get a kick out of it. Bailey had strutted to the board and made a show of writing the name on the board, as Meredith, Alex and Christina looked on.

Meredith's eyes had gone as wide as saucers. She thanked Bailey quietly, turned to Derek and made a face that spoke of pure excitement. He had really tried to be excited for her, but the moment she had turned away, he couldn't even manage a smile.

dee, that was what surgery was to Derek-exciting, and energetic, yet quiet. In that moment Meredith had expressed all the things which he himself felt about surgery.

And his class today. God. They had sat there, stared at the projector screen or the white board. Just stared. When he'd opened up for them to ask questions they just looked at him blankly. He'd found it very hard not to accuse every last one of them of being morons. Maybe he'd lost them somewhere along the way. Maybe what he was saying had gone over their heads. Or maybe they were just stupid. In his current mood, he was inclined to agree with the latter choice.

In frustration, Derek had, as calmly as possible, dismissed his class 30 minutes early and had excused himself to sit in the gallery of Meredith's OR. Several people, including Webber, Yang and Karev were watching with fascination and excitement. Was it too much to ask that his students do the same?

He booted an intern out of a front row seat. Yang and Karev sat directly behind him, while Webber leaned against the door frame behind and to the left.

"She's going into her fourth hour strong." Webber informed Derek helpfully.

Derek nodded, his eyes zeroed in on Meredith's gloved hands. Her fingers skillfully manipulated the scalpel and the forceps. "How did the harvest go?"

"It went freakin' awesome. She was in and out before we knew it." Alex said enviously.

"Good." Derek nodded, only half listening. His eyes followed Meredith's every movement.

"Right angle clamp." Meredith requested firmly. The scrub nurse obliged. Meredith's hands were steady, her shoulders set back, he posture calm. His wife was built just like he was-meant for the OR. Suddenly the patient's blood pressure bottomed out.

"Damn it." Meredith muttered, pulling all her instruments- save her clamp- out of the body cavity. Bailey sat in her stool in the corner of the room, magazine abandoned on her lap.

"Grey."

"I've got it. There are just a few bleeders, nothing I can't handle. Laps. Laps, I need laps." She dabbed around furiously. "I need a clamp. Suction. More suction. Someone retract here." The scrub nurses calmly and efficiently juggled all of Meredith's demands. Meredith was still searching for the bleeder. It was taking too long. Derek's shoulders became tense. All he wanted to do was jump up, throw on some gloves and shove into the OR himself.

"Grey." Bailey's voice took on a worried tone.

"C'mon, Mer." Yang's voice sounded from behind.

"Grey!" Bailey's tone was harsher this time.

"I've got it under control, Doctor Bailey." Meredith ground out, hands and eyes scouting intensely.

"Damn straight you do." Christina said confidently from behind, despite knowing that Meredith couldn't hear.

"Got it! Got it." Meredith quickly cauterized what looked like several vessels. The man's pressure rose steadily. Derek saw her let out a deep breath, her mask lifting slightly from her face, and nod confidently.

Derek stayed for another hour, but no other problems arose. The surgery would probably only last another two hours. He got up, made some excuse about being hungry and left the room. He got odd looks from the others, but only Webber asked, "Don't you want to stay to see her finish up? It's a pretty big deal."

"She'll do great. I'm going to get a sandwich."

Derek walked swiftly to his office and nearly slammed the door upon entering it. He leaned against the door and banged the back of his head against it several times, for no discernable reason. He was just angry and on edge, all the time. The morning's light hearted atmosphere had been almost unheard of, post-plane crash.

Frustrated beyond belief, Derek strode over to the bookshelf which used to hold current cases, but which now served as overflow space for his teaching equipment. He snatched up a suture kit and a suture practice pad. Throwing himself on the couch, he set about trying to force his wrist to do what he knew it wouldn't. He tried two handed and single handed ties, he tried the square, granny and surgeon's knots, all without success. No matter how hard he tried, his wrist either refused to move in the way that was needed, or hurt too much. Defeated and bitter as hell, Derek yanked back his good arm, snapping the nylon thread and ripping the rubber-like practice pad. Much to Derek's further dismay, Meredith chose that moment to walk in.

"Derek…" Her tone was questioning. Sitting on the couch, his back was to her. He did not turn. He was not in the mood to face her in that moment. Derek did not reply. He simply chose a different needle, a silk thread, and practiced the vertical mattress suture. "Derek." Meredith tried again, her tone slightly pleading. Although he felt a slight pang of guilt, his temper won out, and he again ignored her.

He heard her sigh and make her way to the other end of the couch. She sat down, but focused her gaze at the line of awards displayed proudly behind his desk. "You're frustrated. I get that, I do, but Derek…" She sighed again, shaking her head, "This isn't going to get better instantly it-"

"It takes time. These things need time to heal. It won't happen overnight. It'll be tough but I have to push through. Yeah, I've heard." His words were biting, his voice full of disdain.

Meredith's look was one of complete shock. She'd never heard him talk like this. And he certainly had never taken this tone with her before. Sure, he'd yelled, but this was different- this was resentment, rage, an undercurrent of bitter pain. "You're used to being the doctor, rather than the patient. That's fine, but Derek…" She stopped again, searching for the right words.

"I've got to keep my spirits up? That's bull shit. No amount of good feelings or positive vibes or time is going to heal this. I'm stuck with a screwed up hand for the rest of my life. But hey, at least they found a place for me. I can teach! Like that means anything. It's bull shit." He didn't mean to be harsh. It was like he had no control, he was unable to reign in his feelings.

"Derek, I don't know what to say here. I can only do so much. I can talk with you, I can come to Physical Therapy appointments, I can sing and dance, I can bend over backwards. And I'll do it if that's what you need. But I need you to want to get better. I can't do this all on my own."

"God, Meredith. For once, this isn't about you. Okay? Damn it, it's not about you. You don't have the right to make it all about you. This is about me." He was loud, and his tone was sharp. Meredith was at a loss. This was completely out of character for Derek, and frankly it was alarming her. ' _I_ am disabled. I'm _disabled._ I'm damaged goods, Meredith, that fucking plane ruined me! I know your life sucks, but now, so does mine."

Despite herself, Meredith swallowed back tears and cruel retorts. Of all people, he should know that pain wasn't always purely physical. And who was he to say these things to her? She knew all about being damaged and broken. "I'm going to chalk this up to a whole bunch of pain and a whole bunch of painkillers, and I'm going to go home. If you want to talk, we can talk. I don't have anything scheduled until the afternoon tomorrow."

Honestly, Meredith wasn't sure how she was being so understanding. All she wanted to do was scream at him, she wanted to pick a fight because he wasn't the only one affected here. But she didn't do any of the things she felt an impulse to do. Like yell. Or throw things. Or screech and scream. Or smack him upside the head for being so thick. She guessed it was her _growing_ or whatever. She didn't much feel like contemplating the complexity of her nature, or how she was evolving. She just wanted to hit things and scream. But she didn't. Instead, Meredith got up reluctantly, pushing herself up with her arms stiffly. Eight hour surgeries don't do wonders for lumbar comfort. With one more entreating glance at the unresponsive Derek, she turned and left the room silently.

Derek was left on his couch with his suture kit and his melancholy, which only served to further agitate him. The door shut with a resounding click, but Derek sat, unmoving in the semi-darkness of his office.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, obviously I realize that Derek seems a bit out of character here, but you have to realize that Derek's life is centered around two things- family and surgery. And the only family that is around him right now is Meredith, who just so happens to be A) physically uninjured and B) able to do surgery. It's tough for Derek. The physical and emotional trauma is messing with his head. So yeah, he seems a bit off kilter, but what do you expect after a plane crash? Anyway, I'm expecting this to be about a 6 or 8 chapter story, but who knows? Please, comment, review and keep reading! Love, Star.**


	3. Chapter 3

Now that Derek had the time to brood for a few hours, he was seriously sorry. Meredith and he had never been very proficient in the communication department of their relationship. Teasing and kissing and sex had always been easy for them. And Derek was _very_ fond of those things, but he did recognize the importance of talking, and now felt that he really had a lot to make up for.

See, Meredith was usually the one with the serious inability to converse about big things, which made it about a thousand times worse that she had actually really tried to get him to open up and he had shut her down like a complete ass. A really big, really annoying, really jerky ass.

Derek sighed and pulled out his keys, unlocking the front door of what Meredith had dubbed the "McDream house", and occasionally introduced to others as, "This is the House That Derek Built". She'd been reading Zola too many nursery rhymes. He smiled at the thought as the lock slid away and he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Immediately he spotted Meredith on the floor in front of the sofa with Zola, a Barbie house parked on the coffee table and Barbie accessories strewn across the floor. Zola hopped up and waddled somewhat shakily over to him. She only had one shoe on, which was making her unsteady. He looked to Meredith questioningly at the same time he picked Zola up and kissed her head. "Hey, baby girl." He whispered into her ear cheerfully.

"She only wanted the one shoe. I've never been super knowledgable about these things, but I think it might just be the latest fashion soon. I think our girl's going to start a trend, huh, Zola?" Derek could tell that Meredith was trying for a light tone, but was struggling, as displayed by the fact that she was joking, but the joking was more directed at Zola than at him. She was tip-toeing around him, in case he was still in a foul mood. He internally kicked himself. _Way to go, Shep._ He was such an ass.

"She's got the runway strut down, that's for sure. Right, Zola? Ah, ZoZo, Daddy loves you." He released her and she skittered back to the Barbie Beach House. Meredith gave him a hesitant smile over the roof. Derek returned a small smile. Meredith reached down, picked up all the small Barbie gadgets which posed potential choking hazards, gathered them in her hand and stood, striding to the kitchen. She set the pile of plastic shoes, purses, and household appliances on the stone countertop before continuing to the stove. There, a good sized pot sat on the back burner, on low heat.

Meredith had also never been a proficient cooker, but motherhood had necessitated a heightened knowledge and mastery of basic cooking. Tonight was spaghetti- noodles _slightly_ overcooked, sauce straight from a jar- and salad- pre-made and fresh from the bag. Meredith served out the noodles, splashed some sauce on and hand scooped the salad onto a plate which she then placed in front of him, on the island bar. He sat in a bar stool, acknowledging his thanks. She picked up two bottles of salad dressing, ranch and italian and raised her eyebrows. "Italian, please." Meredith nodded, as she had already been in the process of extending it to him. She knew what he liked.

"Thank you." He tried to put as much sentiment into it as he could.

She smiled silently at him for a second. Then, "Welcome. I'm gonna go put Zola down for the night. Zo. Zo, come here, big girl. Come here." She smiled at their daughter, squatting down, opening her arms and wiggling her fingers. Zola did so, smiling and cooing and giggling as she pumped her tiny legs in the direction of her mom. Meredith picked her up, lifting her and spinning her around as soon as she was in arm's reach. "Oh, who's my good girl. Zola is. Zola's Mama's sweet girl." She stepped toward Derek. "Give Daddy a big goodnight kiss." Zola adorably did as she was told. Once finished, Meredith carried Zola on her hip, across the house and to her room.

Derek sat, solemnly chewing his food, considering his next options. Obviously, he needed to apologize. He put that at the top of his agenda. Meredith was back in the kitchen within ten minutes. Derek was still hopelessly unprepared for the serious chat they were about to enter into, but he knew he couldn't avoid it any longer.

"Meredith." He began, but she didn't let him get any further than that.

"Are you okay?" She was concerned, but also flustered. It was an odd but comforting combination.

"I don't know. I mean…" He searched for the words to explain it, but came up empty. He switched gears, "I keep wanting to say yes, but every time I do, I feel like I just lied." Meredith nodded, as if she understood, because honestly, she did. She did understand the feeling of wanting-no of _needing_ \- to be okay, but being unable to swing it. It was how she felt for much of her life.

"So what do you need to get better?" She asked pragmatically. Derek shrugged, shook his head and sighed. If he knew, he'd tell her, if only just to unburden the stress he knew she was placing on herself. "Do you need to talk to the physical therapist again? I could look into some of the others Callie mentioned. We could see that Nerve specialist from Manhattan, Dr. Fontaine. Or I could call the Sports Medicine lady, you know, the one who's done a ton of research into ligamental repairs? Maybe-"

Meredith would have continued had Derek not intervened. "Meredith. Meredith!" She stopped and groaned, feeling overwhelmed and unhelpful. "Meredith, come here." He remained seated on his bar stool chair, but he spread his legs a little wider, threw open his arms scooted more to the edge of his seat. She accepted his invitation and draped her arms over his shoulders, pressing her forehead to his collarbone. She felt him exhale deeply into her hair, and just as quickly draw breath back in. "Oh, Meredith. I'm so sorry." His voice was as quiet as she'd ever heard it. He sounded desperate. "I _am_ sorry. Really sorry."

"I know, Derek." She stroked at the hair on the back of his neck, tightening her grip on his neck. His own grip on her back tightened in response. She pulled away, sliding her fingers to his jaw, then his cheek. "Here's the plan. You and I get some good solid sleep tonight. We get totally stoned on Benadryl, conk out in our big bed and we'll go back to work tomorrow, request a few days of leave, finish up the day and work out our long term game plan. How does that sound?" Her smile was strained, but her fingers stroked comfortingly at his cheeks, and her plan was so much better than anything he had and she sounded so sure.

He nodded, smile widening slightly. He was tired. "It sounds like a plan. A very good plan. When did you become the sensible one?" He asked, attempting to lighten the mood. On top of everything else, he felt as if all he'd been doing lately was bogging her down with worry and stress. She was already pretty high strung by nature. He could only imagine how tight her muscles were at the moment. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, a smile still playing gently on his lips. He rested his hand on her shoulder after a moment, carefully (and hopefully sneakily) attempting to gauge the tension of her shoulders. Without even moving his hand past her scapula, his fingers came in contact with multiple, what had to be very painful, knots in her muscles.

"Good God." He muttered sharply, spinning her so that her back was towards him.

"Derek, what are you-"

"How are you not huddled over in pain right now?" He ran his fingers along her shoulders, her spine and on either side of her upper and lower back.

"It's nothing."

"Nothing, my ass." Now more than ever he felt a sharp pang of guilt. He had honestly been neglecting his wife. _His wife._ Flashback. _Meredith sat in a chair looking up at him from her petty hate mail assignment. It was the day Mark Sloan had come to Seattle, and it had stirred up all sorts of trouble. Including the Meredith-is-curious-about-your-past-life trouble, which was some of the worst kind. "Why do you think she cheated on you? Were you different then? Were you a bad husband?"_

" _I, uh." Meredith and he had still been very timid around each other. "I was just a little...absent."_ And now, if in fact it was even possible, he hated himself even more. He stood, agitated, grabbed the biggest glass he could find and filled it with water, simultaneously reaching into the cabinet where they kept their over-the-counter meds and yanked the Aleve off the shelf. He thrust them toward Meredith.

"I'm going to set up an appointment with a massage therapist. Until then, drink lots of water and pop anti-inflammatories like they're candy." He commanded.

"I don't need to see a massage therapist, Derek." She said, but she took the Aleve and gulped at the water to appease him. He was about to start in again but she soothed him, "What I need is for my husband is to come to bed with me, and hold me and tell me what he's feeling so we can both stick to the plan and get some sleep tonight." She glanced at the clock. 8:02. Plenty of time to talk and be in bed at a reasonable hour. With that she turned on her heel and lead the way back into their bedroom. She brushed her teeth, changed into one of his old tee's and some thin pajama pants and slipped into bed resolutely. He did the only thing he could, which was to do as he was told and get into bed.

She lay on her side, facing him, her head propped up on her hand. He sat upright against the headboard, even though all he really wanted to do was position himself as she was. But that would require resting his head on his wrist, which would be uncomfortable and painful as hell. She clued in and shifted until sat indian style on the bed, pulling the sheets and comforter onto her lap. Meredith had always been extremely observant.

"What happened today, Derek?"

He sat quietly, asking himself the same question again and again. What _had_ happened? "I was watching your surgery-you did excellently, by the way," She smiled widely at the compliment, but was anxious for him to continue. "And...I don't know. I guess I got jealous." Another Flashback, this one more playful than the last. _Meredith in an exam room, disposing of her trauma scrub gown. "Are you jealous?" She smirked triumphantly._

 _He scoffed. "I don't_ get _jealous."_

"Jealous? Of what-me?" She sounded exceedingly surprised.

Was that such a shocking thing? Derek always thought most people he knew had reason to be jealous of Meredith. She was pretty, and smart and funny and wise. Why wouldn't people be jealous of her? Of course, none of those were the reasons he had been jealous. His train of thought was starting to derail. That happened sometimes when he thought of Meredith. He shook his head, determined to refocus.

"Yes, of you." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Why me?" Still incredulous. She had no idea. It was almost funny to him, how unaware she was of how great she was.

"Because you performed an eight hour solo surgery. For eight hours, you were completely in your element, completely in control, and you were happy. And I had just taught a class of imbecile Med students. And you were hands deep in a patient, while I was stuck in the gallery. And for eight hours, you got to be completely in your element, in your zone, where you belong. And I was teaching imbeciles and watching you cut." He sighed.

"Oh." She didn't know how to respond to that. She had thought he was over the whole jealous-of-your-surgeries thing.

"And," he continued, at which she was again surprised, "then you came in-after your eight hour surgery, exhausted- and the first thing you did was _worry_ about me. About _me._ And I yelled at you, and said horrible things, and all you did was worry some more. No concern for yourself, you let all my nasty, horrible comments slide. I just wish-" He knocked the headboard with his head softly. "I just wish I was strong like that."

"Derek." Her voice was barely a whisper. His head shot up to see her. Had he hurt her again? But no, she didn't seem upset. She was smiling a little, even. She was shaking her head and smiling… Was he missing something?

Meredith was delighted-not because Derek was jealous, but that his reason for being so upset was not what she expected. Ever since the plane wreck, they'd been leaning on each other for a lot of support, especially since Christina was out of the question, as far as venting went. But Meredith had had this dreadful feeling that she wasn't being supportive enough, or that she was doing it wrong, or that there was something more that she should be doing that she just didn't know about. Meredith had only ever known pushing _herself_ through life changing, traumatic situations, and had never been too terribly good at that.

"Derek, I could kiss you right now." She smiled widely. And then she lunged forward and did just that. Taken aback, it took him a few second to relax and kiss her back, hands switching from the task of worrying about balance to pulling her closer to him (if that was even possible).

Derek pulled away after sometime, still confused. "Uh, Meredith, I'm happy you're happy," he began, answering yet another kiss she initiated with one of his own, "But I think I'd be happier if I knew what we were being happy about."

She pulled back, smiling sadly, eyebrows knitted in her hands warm on his neck. "I thought I was failing you."

"Meredith!" He scolded softly. As if that was even possible. If she knew the half of what she was doing to help him, she'd never have thought that. "No, Meredith. You haven't. You couldn't."

She liked the way he said her name. He was one of the only people who almost always called her by her full name. She'd never minded and in fact liked it when most people called her "Mer" because she knew it meant that they were comfortable and friendly with her. It meant that they were close to her. But Derek wasn't _most people._ Derek was...Derek. He was the one person who said her whole name just because he like the sound of it, just because he wanted as much of her as possible, and she could tell that when he said her name. Plus, his tone always changed when he said her name, got all soft and warm and completely McDreamy. Despite all their teasing, despite all their hardships, he was still completely McDreamy. It was comforting and slightly infuriating all at once.

"Okay?" Derek asked her, breaking her from her reverie.

"Okay." She smiled, stretched her legs out and laid back against the mattress. Derek followed suit. Meredith laid on her back, rather than her side which she preferred. Derek also preferred laying on his side-on his left side-but it always but his wrist at a weird, painful angle, so Meredith contented herself with resting her head on his pillow, cheek to slightly unshaven cheek with Derek, body angled slightly, so she'd still be on her side of the bed, and be clear from his injured wrist. **A/N: So, yes, Derek is going to be going through some stressful things, and so is Meredith, but they've been through tough stuff before right? right? So... they can portably handle this... right? We'll see... Anyway, this chapter is a bit of filler, plus just a bit to show how much I think they've grown in their relationship. They say nasty things, they fight and bicker, but they also know when to lay down arms and give peace a chance...** **So anyway, please comment, I'd love to hear from you guys!**


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Meredith went into work early. Very early. 3 A.M. early. She let Derek sleep, leaving a note by the coffee pot that relayed that she was going to go in, getting all her scheduled surgeries done and, surgery gods willing, would be back with news of their approved leave of absence.

Aparently the surgery gods were smiling upon Meredith Grey that day. She finished her scheduled umbilical hernia repair, four biopsies and removed a few adhesions from a particularly perky blonde woman's colon. She was finished by 7:24. She had even convinced Webber to take an emergent appendectomy off her hands. In simple terms, she was basically feeling like a superhero.

Her surgical skills weren't the only thing which contributed to her hero status, however. Meredith had also come up with a plan for the next two days which she had managed to schedule for herself and Derek. Not just a plan. A perfect plan. Yep, she was definitely going to win Wife of the Year. She called Derek. She explained that she was out of the hospital, but that she was going to stop by a few stores before she headed home. She tried to sound as casual as possible by giving vague descriptions. Derek suspected something was up, but she sounded so upbeat on the phone that he decided not to question his wife. Not questioning his wife when he had the option usually worked in his favor, as it did this time.

Once home, Meredith loaded her arms with bags and struggled to the door. She wrestled with her load, simultaneously digging for her house keys, when suddenly, the front door swung open. "Meredith…"

"Don't ask questions." She warned.

Derek shook his head vigorously, mouth twisted into a teasing smile. "Wouldn't dream of it." He took a few bags from her and lead them into the house. He tried to sneak a peek. What in the world was Meredith up to? His eyes scanned the bags, trying to catch a glimpse of anything, but he either couldn't make anything out through the plastic, or was confused by what he did see..

He hadn't the slightest idea what she was going to do with Elmer's glue and bread, but there they were, in one of the bags in his hands. He smiled suddenly. Grocery shopping _and_ arts and crafts? Two things that did not a Meredith Grey make. Just what was she doing? He certainly had no idea, but he didn't really care _what_ it was, just that it _was._ Meredith was doing things he'd never dreamed she do, and she was doing it for him.

"Eyes up here, Derek." Meredith joked pointing to herself. She was joking, but she also really wanted her surprise to be just that-a surprise. Derek obliged. Whatever Meredith had up her sleeve, he'd find out soon enough. Besides, Meredith was much more worth looking at than some shopping supplies.

Frankly, Meredith was surprised at Derek's mood. Though she had come bearing good news and groceries, she had half-expected him to be in one of the more foul moods which he was now prone to. Everything came back to that freaking plane.

Meredith bustled about the kitchen, putting groceries away, occasionally wrapping bags around their contents, to keep them out of Derek's sight. It was all very domestic. Meredith heard Christina's voice teasing her in the background, something about being one of those people they used to make fun of in the cafeteria, one of those sorry old housewives.

Derek was trying his hardest to be in a good mood. Meredith was certainly helping him along with that, but when she turned her back, he could feel his smile begin to falter, and it was taking more and more will power each time to plaster it back on. He was glad when he had woken up alone, because he had woken to serious pain which had made him bitter and gloomy all morning. It would help nothing for Meredith to have witnessed it. She had seen him wake similarly several times, and every time she had flinched and fluttered nervously around, trying everything she could to help, but being utterly unable and ill-equipped.

Meredith had been done stocking the kitchen for a while, but Derek was lost deep on his train of thought. Vaguely, part his brain told him to look at her and smile again, because his mouth was pulled into a grimace, but that part was so small and so buried that it hardly had any effect. "Derek." Meredith voiced sadly. Just like that, it was his fault she was sad again, but he could do nothing to help it. Suddenly she was in front of him, one small hand on his cheek, sad grey-green eyes staring intently at his own bright blue ones. "You still here?" She questioned.

It took him a long time to respond, and even longer still for the fogginess to clear out of his head. "Yeah."

Meredith nodded and tangled her fingers with his, pulling slightly until he followed her haltingly to the couch. They both sat, the couch cushions sinking to accommodate them comfortably. "So here's what I'm thinking," Meredith broached the subject cautiously, "Your physical therapist has a whole list of exercises for you to do, right? So we'll just do one or two at a time, take breaks in between and just relax for the next couple of days." Derek said nothing. His gaze was focused somewhere between her head and the forest which was just visible through their living room window. "I've been doing a lot of research and I've found some other things which can help improve dexterity and… I think this'll be good."

Derek nodded, but he wasn't paying attention much. If it were up to him, he would just pretend nothing was wrong, he'd go to work at the hospital as a teacher and he'd just put on a brave face. Meredith had put on a brave face for months after he left her for Addison, and then again after her near-death-whatever, and again after the shooting. Putting on a brave face and soldiering through, that was something which she had grown doing, which she knew intimately. She always seemed to pull through. He could do the same.

But there she was, trying so hard, and smiling and-once again- putting aside her own feelings and forging on through.

Meredith had arranged for Zola to stay with Christina and Owen for the night, to give herself and Derek a slight reprieve. That thought in mind, they agreed to start their day with a break. A break without being on constant toddler alert, a break from surgery, a break from all the stresses which weighed heavily on their minds.

Meredith was hesitant to push him into starting up right away, anyway. The last thing she'd want to do if she was in his shoes would be to _think_ about the daunting task of getting better. They agreed to watch a movie. Meredith couldn't remember the last time she had just vegged out on the couch, snacking, cuddling and being mentally tuned out. It was so nice that one movie turned into two. Which turned into a marathon-Meredith would pick one, then Derek would pick one. She had never pegged Derek for a guy who liked westerns.

It was nice and easy and relaxing and they took turns laying across the couch. Meredith was first, and she had wedged herself comfortably under his shoulder and his arm had curled around her and his fingers had stroked softly at her arm, her stomach, her neck. The next movie saw Derek's head resting comfortably in Meredith's lap. One of her hands rested on his ribcage, fingers tangled easily with his own, and the other had played and tugged gently at his hair. Eventually though, their bubble had to be popped, and reality had to set back in.

Around late afternoon, Meredith and Derek had silently both come to the conclusion that they should do what they set out to do-fix his hand. Derek was very unenthused, but he did his best to hide it.

"One of the exercises involves these weights." He summoned all the inner strength he could, pointing towards the corner of the room where a stack of weights varying from 2-10 pounds sat. Meredith nodded, making her way over. She selected two five pounders and carried them back.

"Show me what to do." She prompted lightly, handing him one of the fives. So Meredith was going to work out with him. First groceries, then arts and crafts (although technically that one was still just an assumption, albeit a good one) and now working out. If he hadn't been so convinced it was because she was the best wife ever, he'd have been sure that the world would soon stop spinning.

Derek scooted nearer to the edge of the sofa and sat straighter up. Meredith followed. Derek rested his forearm on his thigh, the back of his hand resting against his knee, weight in hand. "I just curl this up, as many times as I can before it hurts. If it hurts, I wait until it stops, or use a smaller weight."

"Okay." It was just wrist curl and so Meredith copied his actions and kept pace with him easily. Up, down, up, down. Up-pause. He made a rolling motion with his wrist. Meredith recognized this as one of the clear signs that he was in pain. He shook his head determinedly and began again-down, up, down, up. They did this for several minutes in silence. Derek stared down at his hand, watching his own movements. Meredith concentrated on Derek. Her own arm began burning with lactic acid after a while, and Derek's mouth was twisted (she knew he didn't realize it was so) and so she knew he was pushing through the pain despite what he was supposed to do-rest.

"Hell." He cursed after another few minutes of curls. He threw the weight onto the plush rug, rubbing his injured wrist and scowling furiously. Meredith had never seen an expression that marred his features as severely.

"Break?" She inquired with a small voice. Meredith wasn't a small voice type of girl. She was confident, strong, but she couldn't bring her voice much higher than a whisper.

"No." He gritted his teeth resolutely. "There are other exercises." He strode over to a low table near the windows overlooking their property which held much of his extensive physical therapy aids and equipment. He snatched up two Thera-bands-essentially giant rubber bands of different strengths (differentiated by color). They each had a loop that served as a hand hold tied into one end. He brought back a red band and a green band (the second and third lowest levels, respectively). He gave her the green, eyes averted in what Meredith could only describe as embarrassment. Her heart ached for him. If she could take all his pain for herself, she would have.

"Just step on the end without the loop. You can increase resistance the higher up you step on the band." Once again his forearm rested against his thigh, hand dangling against his knee, except this time, the back of his hand was faced upward. He slipped his hand through the hand loop, adjusted the tension of the band by pulling it tighter under his foot. "Just pull upwards, release, up, release. Just like the last one."

"Until it hurts?"

Derek nodded. "Until it hurts." Except that it was already hurting him and he hadn't even started. Just the act of keeping his wrist taught instead of resting. God, he was weak. He hated it. Everytime he thought about being unable to help Meredith, about how Owen and Richard had been the ones to help her move the new furniture into their house, or how he couldn't hoist Zola above his head, or how much he struggled to lift Meredith into their usual bear hug, bile rose in the back of his throat and a heavy weight settled into the pit of his stomach. Derek began to lift and lower his wrist and Meredith kept pace with him easily. Even though she had the stronger band and it was pulled taught under her foot. He attempted to tamp down the jealousy that rose like ocean waves in a storm, but was unable to do so. If she were in his place, she'd be doing everything she could to get better.

Derek let go of the band and allowed it to snap down towards his foot. "Break." He muttered sharply. Meredith bent down, lifted his foot off the band and rose back up, both therabands in hand.

"Break." She agreed. Although They had only done about a thirty minute therapy session, she knew Derek was at his limit, for the time being. And although he was grumpy to the power of ten, she couldn't help be be slightly glad of his timing. It was the perfect time to engage phase two of her plan. "Derek, could you go call Christina and Owen, you know, just check in on Zola?" Meredith asked, standing as she did so, her hand rubbing his shoulder. He nodded mutely and headed to the bedroom, presumably to get his cell phone.

Meredith mentally patted herself on the back, for her brilliant excuse to get him out of the room for a few minutes. She snatched a grocery bag full of food straight from the fridge, sprinted to her tote back which sat near the front door and flew through the door, intentionally leaving it wide open.

From her tote, she pulled a blanket, which she quickly spread on the front lawn. She pulled boxes and bags of food from within the plastic grocery sack and wittingly stuffed the bag under one corner of the blanket, to keep it from blowing away. She then jumped out of her loose pants into a pair of comfortable jeans (the tight kind that hugged her figure nicely) and threw off her t-shirt for an indigo blouse. Her old clothes were stuffed back into the tote. Meredith sat indian style on the blanket, grinning. A picnic on a clear spring night. Food and stargazing? This was exactly the kind of thing Derek loved. It was exactly the kind of thing they'd been missing recently.

So Meredith sat grinning and waiting for Derek. And she waited. And waited. And waited. Half an hour elapsed. Derek did not come. Meredith was almost boiling with anger. Yes, Derek was going through a rough patch. Yes, he was allowed to be upset with the circumstances. Yes, what he was going through was unimaginably heartbreaking. But it had been two months since the plane!

For two months, Meredith had been Derek's lone support beam (he wouldn't let anyone else help him, stubborn as he was). And Meredith was okay with being his only support. In fact, she loved being his help. This was what marriage was supposed to be, to her. In good times and in bad. But she felt as if she were crumbling with the weight, and the bad was dragging on so long, and she had so many other responsibilities she had been juggling (often even ignoring, in favor of her husband). And she was trying _so hard_ to be strong, but she had no one to talk to.

Christina had her own emotional trauma and this thing with Owen, and the possible divorce that she needed to deal with. Arizona and Callie had the loss of Mark, and the loss of Arizona's leg and they had baby Sophia. Richard and Bailey, they'd be supportive, but they wouldn't understand. And they wouldn't know how to help. And Alex-well, okay, she did have Alex, but there was very little he could do to help. He didn't know what to say when she talked about all of it, and he already felt guilty enough for having not been on the plane. So yeah, Meredith was keeping it all bottled in, just like she used to.

Meredith packed the food back into the grocery bag. She folded the blanket, poured out the glass of wine she had allowed herself into the grass-she wasn't in the mood anymore- and put everything back in the tote bag, which she carted slowly and heavily back to the house. She knew Derek had seen the front door, knew she was out there, waiting. She'd seen his head peek out from the window. But she'd waited anyway, hoping he'd change his mind.

Meredith barely resisted the urge to slam the front door. She whirled and locked it. Once everything was back in it's place, she'd be going resolutely to bed. She jammed the food back into the refrigerator, dropped her tote by the couch and practically stomped to the master bedroom. Derek was already under the comforter on his side of the bed. He wasn't asleep, and Meredith knew that, but she said nothing. Meredith's indigo blouse-the one she bought just because she knew Derek would like it- and her jeans were folded and set resolutely on the end table at the foot of their large bed. She showered and brushed teeth, still very agitated, but when she exited the bathroom, the fight left her. She was just tired, now. And sad. She pulled on long pant pajamas and a long sleeve shirt and sidled up to the very edge of her side of the bed, laying as far from Derek as she could be, while remaining on the mattress.

 **A/N: Hey, guys! So, this chapter was really hard. I had to rewrite it** ** _at least_** **three times. Originally, I was going to make this chapter end on a super cute, really fluffy note, but it didn't feel right to me. Here's the thing about this time in Meredith's life-Meredith has always been the type of person who tries to drive through, push on, but she's always been bogged down by her past. Meredith is dealing with the trauma of a plane crash, the loss of her sister, and, in a way, the loss of Derek. Obviously, Derek is still alive, but he's changed and she's struggling. And Derek... Well Derek is being a little selfish. Not without reason, however. He also is trying to deal with trauma and loss, and it's tough because he doesn't have his usual coping method-the quiet and the peace of the OR.** **Oh, and I realize that the bit about Zola staying with Christina and Owen, and the bit about how hard a time Christina and Owen are having seem to contradict one another, but remember, Christina and Owen's relationship is messy, and quite often doesn't make a lot of sense. Plus, Zola is family to Christina, even if she doesn't want to be her godmother. Besides, Owen loves kids, so we all know Owen would be doing most of the work , all the physical therapy stuff, that's all knowledge I gained from my own experience with physical therapy on my own wrist. I'm no doctor or physical therapist, but those are pretty common exercises, so as far as I can tell, it's fairly accurate.**

 **Anyway, thank you guys so much for reading and commenting! Already, I think I'm going to extend it to be a longer story than I had first planned. Originally I had planned just 6 chapters, but you guys have been very inspiring.**


	5. Chapter 5

Derek woke the next day very regretful. The space in the bed where Meredith usually lay was empty and cold. He hadn't been able to bring himself to go out and fake his way through a fun night that Meredith had obviously put so much thought and effort into. He just found it so hard to focus sometimes. It was frustrating, but he couldn't help it. He supposed he should be talking to a shrink, but he didn't know how much it would help, anyway. He didn't think it was something he could talk his way through, which was unfamiliar to Derek. He was used to charming and talking and smiling his way through things.

Groaning, he sat up slowly, blinking at the bedroom. Meredith had drawn the shades over the windows and the glass french doors so that he could sleep unimpeded by harsh sunlight. He would have stayed in bed longer, contemplating his jerkyness and feeling miserable, but the warm smell of coffee filled his nostrils and he couldn't stay put. He trudged into the kitchen to find the Mr. Coffee brewing a fresh pot. He scanned the room, but saw no sign of his wife. Ah, she'd set the brand new coffee pot to brew at 7:30. The list of things she was doing for him out of the goodness of her heart was getting longer. The list of things that made him simultaneously love her more and hate himself more was also growing.

Little did Derek know, Meredith was about to kick his ass into gear. She was driving back from the firehouse, Zola in the back, strapped into her car seat and sawing logs like a lumberjack in a patch of redwoods. Meredith glanced down. Her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel too tightly. She forced a deep breath through her teeth and ran a hand through her hair. Her old plan was gone. She had a new one, and it was not nearly as fun or nice as the first had been. But something had to be done. She couldn't just sit around and let Derek be miserable.

Meredith put the car in park once home, stepped out of the car and pulled Zola out of her seat. "Alright Zo, time to work your magic. You can do this. You got daddy's charm, huh?"

"Dada," was Zola's squealing reply.

Meredith laughed conspiratorially at Zola. "That's my girl." She marched inside, Zola on her hip, purse on her opposite shoulder.

Meredith sat Zola down at the dining room table, on her booster seat, and brought one of her grocery bags out of it's hiding spot in a remote corner of one of the kitchen cabinets. Derek emerged from the bedroom still in his pajamas (a Dartmouth shirt Meredith had bought him as a joke one Christmas and flannel pants) and a coffee mug gripped firmly in his hand.

Meredith turned resolutely back to the table, took her seat and upended the contents of the bag onto a table. Squinting, Derek made out what looked like white glue and a puzzle box. He stepped forward lightly, aware of Meredith's slight hostility toward him. He deserved it, he knew that much. Meredith opened the box which he had assumed contained a puzzle, but what came out did not look like conventional puzzle pieces.

Instead of flat, cardboard pieces with printing on one side, he found that some of these pieces were flat, some were round. To Derek's growing confusion, he also identified string and little pits of plastic and metal, all varying in shape and size.

"What'cha making, girls?" He asked finally.

"Boat!" Zola yelled in delight, reaching for the small pieces. Meredith knowingly slid them out of her way, instead moving some bigger pieces toward Zola, so that she could still play.

"A boat? What kind of boat?" Zola just grinned at him, clapping her hands. Meredith glared resolutely at the instructions, sorting the pieces. Meredith struggled for a long time with a few pieces, trying to find the right way for them to fit together. It took a while, but Meredith slowly began constructing the boat, occasionally asking Zola to "press here" or "hold this" so she felt included. After some time, the tension began to shed from her shoulders. Derek merely stood and watched as Meredith and Zola made a model ferryboat.

Derek's shoulders drooped sadly. He moved to sit across the table from Meredith. Zola tapped the table with what appeared to be a miniature plastic window while Meredith constructed the bow of the ship, alternating between reaching for the next piece of ship and dabbing glue onto the pieces.

Derek wanted nothing more than to help, but he knew that his hand would shake too much to be of any use. Zola and Meredith were smiling at each other, having such fun with their project. He supposed that was the point of this.

Meredith glanced up at him, although her head was still leaned in toward Zola. "This, Derek. This is why you have to get better." She hoisted Zola into her lap, handed her the part of the bow she had built. Delighted, Zola twisted it in her hands, admiring every inch. "Zola wanted her daddy to do her hair this morning. And yesterday morning. And the first thing she did when she saw this box," she indicated the model ferryboat box, "was ask if daddy would make it with her. It's not about me, Derek. It's about her." She looked like she wanted to continue, but she stopped in order to prevent her voice from cracking. Derek felt a dreadful sinking sensation pull at his core. It was so sudden and so intense that he had to physically resist the urge to double over. _Now_ her pain was his and his pain was hers. A silent understanding had passed between them in that instant.

Derek nodded solemnly, his throat tightening in response. A tear slid down her cheek. Derek was quick to reach across the table and wipe it away with a thumb. He stood, walked around the end of the table and crouched in front of Meredith. Zola had slipped off her lap and toddled into the kitchen, and so Meredith sat, sort of hunched forward, a piece of ferryboat clutched in her hands. He reached out, his thumb stroking at her cheekbone. She leaned into his hand with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Meredith. I am." She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "I need to get better." She nodded again.

Meredith rose, and Derek rose with her, hand sliding from her cheek to her back, pulling her into a hug. She clutched at his shoulders, pressed her nose into his shirt.

"Oh, Mer. How did all this happen?"

"That's not the right question to ask, Derek. Despite what teachers say," She poked at his chest, "There is such a thing as a stupid question."

"What do I ask?" He questioned, honestly looking for an answer. His blue eyes searched her intelligent green ones.

"You ask how we get through. You ask yourself and you ask me what we're going to do to get through."

He nodded, bumping her nose with his. Voice low, he asked. "What are we going to do?" She stepped back, bouncing up onto her toes to kiss his forehead.

"We're going to do your physical therapy."

Meredith moved into the living room, headed straight for his table of torture instruments-or rather, his physical therapy equipment. She grabbed a TheraBand brand rubber bar, about two inches thick. It was green, so it was in the middle as far as it's difficulty (resistance) rating. (Most of Derek's PT gear was yellow, red and green, the three lowest levels. A few items were blue. So far, he had not collected a single black piece, for which he was grateful. They were by far the most difficult tools). She handed the TheraBar to Derek, grabbed one of her own.

She then dashed off to grab Zola before she fell trying to climb onto the coffee table. Catastrophe avoided, Derek filled a bowl with cheerios, which he set in front of Zola. She was placed back into her high chair, where she happily munched away. Derek and Meredith sat on either side of Zola, who was at the head of the table.

Meredith waited for Derek to show her what to do, her eyes eager. She had finally gotten through to him and she was chomping at the bit to continue her support. Derek placed the bar on the table in front of him. With his right hand, he held the left end of the foot long rubber bar, and, similarly, his left hand held the right end. In the neutral (resting) position, his left wrist sat atop his right. He then bent the right end of the bar to the left, and down, so that the backs of his hands touched, the rubber bar now more a sideways U than anything. Then, slow and controlled, he returned the bar back to its natural position.

"How many?" Meredith asked.

"At least 30. 50 is the target."

"Then let's get started."

Derek smiled gratefully. "I don't understand…" He couldn't figure out how she managed to go through so much and still be...her. Completely and uniquely her.

"This is me, showing solidarity, or whatever." She smiled sweetly, her eyes crinkling delightfully.

"Thanks."

"Shut up and do your bar curls." She threatened playfully, "I assume there are a lot more exercises to get through?"

Derek nodded his head in a silent but determined confirmation. For the rest of the night, Meredith and Derek alternated between breaks in which they either ate, rested or played with Zola, and forging through the extensive list of PT exercises. They didn't do much talking until they were tucked snugly in bed together, later that night.

"How does it feel?" Meredith worried.

"It's… Actually a lot better." It was hard to explain. Immediately following the exercises, his wrist had been sore and achey, but now, incredibly, he felt very little pain. It was like a slab of concrete had just been lifted of his chest.

She kissed the top of his shoulder tiredly. "I'm glad. And I'm very proud. What we did today-what you did- it was big."

"It was, wasn't it?" She nodded in reply.

"Gah, do we have to go back to work tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately." Seriously, she loved surgery as much as the next guy, but she was dreading the next day at work, though she couldn't imagine why.

"I don't want to…" Derek groaned, pressing his nose against her cheek.

She rubbed her nose against his affectionately. "We have to."

Derek rolled over, deliberately rolling halfway on top of her. "No."

Meredith laughed, trying to shove him off. "Derek…" She shoved as hard as she could, but he wouldn't budge.

He borrowed his head into her neck playfully. "Don't make me go."

"You will go. Seriously Derek, I need you to go, because this is the first time in a long time I haven't wanted to go back. So you have to go with me."

He sighed, warm breath fanning out across her neck. "Understood. Okay, we're going back in tomorrow." He tried to sound as supportive as possible. Frankly, it was rather alarming that she wasn't itching to cut. "I don't even know what I have scheduled… What's the date tomorrow?"

Meredith rolled over and checked her phone. But instead of rolling back over and answering his question, she gasped so harshly that her whole body jerked with the motion. Her phone dropped to the wood floor, and he was sure that he heard the glass crack, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that Meredith was struggling to breathe and she was croaking and gasping, her hands pulling at her sweater desperately. Derek shot toward her, all his muscles tense, his hand flying to her, mind running a million miles an hour.

What caused someone to have trouble breathing? Anaphylaxis, asthma, pulmonary embolisms, congestive heart failure. No, no, no and no. None of the scenarios he constructed made any sense. His searched for the light switch, his own breath caught.

"Meredith. Meredith, what the hell? Meredith what's wrong?" God, he couldn't afford to panic. Finally, he found the light switch, and he sprang forward, hand flying to find the source of the problem, but when he stopped to look-really look- he froze. She wasn't having trouble breathing. Or rather, she was, but it wasn't due to any medical reason. She was sobbing so hard she could hardly breathe. She was crying so hard that tears could hardly keep pace.

He hurried to kneel in front of her, his hands immediately grabbing at her shoulders. "Meredith. Meredith, what's wrong?" His adrenaline rush had elevated his heart rate, and though he was clueless as to the source of her distress, his body ached in time with hers. Meredith simply shook her head, heaving and rocking. "Meredith, you have to tell me what's wrong. I can't help unless-" but he stopped as she pointed toward the phone which lay forgotten (and yes, broken) on the floor. He picked up the phone, careful of the shattered screen. He clicked the home button. On her screen a single notification appeared.

 _Reminder for June 21: Lexie's Birthday._

Oh, God. Tomorrow was Lexie Grey's birthday.

 **A/N: Aaaand, Bomb shell. Yeah, honestly, I did not see myself going this route. Truthfully, I was only going to mention Lexie in passing, but I'm so glad I didn't. Lexie is one of the characters most near and dear to me. And to Meredith. To write a story about this time in her life and not go into detail about her grief for Lexie would be a crime. So that's what the next chapter is going to focus on. :'(**

 **Regarding the Physical Therapy, often times it is very painful in the moment, which makes it really hard to motivate ones self into doing, but afterwards it almost always made me feel better. So I guess I'm still drawing on personal experience here.**

 **So, I'm kind of nervous about this next chapter. I don't know if I'll be able to capture the essence of the other Grey's characters that I'd like to put in. It'll be a challenge. Who would you like to see me fit into the next chapter? Please comment, and thanks for your support! Love, Star.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: okay, first SO sorry about that garble that got posted earlier, I have no idea how that happened! Second, thank you guys so much for all of your comments and support. Honestly they have been a huge driving force! Love you guys!**

It was like Meredith couldn't breathe. Her sister's birthday. Her dead sister's birthday. And she had forgotten completely about it. And her. For two whole days she had thought of nothing except for Derek. She hadn't thought of Lexie. Somehow it just felt wrong.

Derek was still sitting on the mattress in front of her. His eyes were dark with grief and sparked with guilt. Meredith wasn't sure why, but she couldn't ask. She could hardly even breathe. Her tears stopped flowing after a while, though, so she was just gasping and rocking on the bed. Derek's hand wrapped around her ankle after a few minutes and suddenly, it felt like she could breathe again. It was like she'd been drowning and he had thrown her a life vest. It wouldn't have been the first time he saved her from drowning.

Derek watched her slowly calm down. Ever since being back, Meredith hadn't had much time to grieve for Lexie. She'd always been worrying about the lawsuit or about Christina or about him and his hand. The funeral had been hardly been a good place to grieve either. Her father (drunk again) had been there with his other daughter. And all of Susan's family, all of these family and friends of Lexie's that Meredith hadn't known existed. She had felt so out of place that she hadn't even stayed through the whole thing.

Her gasps slowed to shuddering breaths. Derek moved then, having given her the space she needed to calm down. If he had swooped in and scooped her up right when he'd realized, as he wanted to, she'd only have falled apart even more. She would have been hysterical. That was the last thing she needed. He set himself down gently beside her, pulled her gently by her ribcage. She came willingly, and folded against his chest, her legs stretching out in between his. He didn't mind. She was still pretty tiny and besides, he had been part of the reason she had walled herself off from grieving.

It took a very long, very heart rending hour, but eventually her breathing became normal against his chest. Her fingers were clutching at his t-shirt and her eyes were staring distantly. Derek's hands were running deftly through her silky hair.

"I have to go to work tomorrow." Her eyes were glassy, her throat raw.

Derek reared his head back. "No you don't. No, we can stay home."

She shook her head, the top of it gliding against his neck. "She loved the hospital. She loved her job. Her name is all over it. I do have to go in."

Derek planted a kiss at the top of her head, pulled back the hair from her neck. "If that's what you need, that's what we'll do." She nodded. He was warm, and his arms were around her, and although nothing was okay, it seemed that half of it didn't matter right then, in his arms. And the other half, the half that did matter, it could wait. It couldn't penetrate the nice, comfortable bubble which Derek had created for her. He blew cool air onto her hot neck soothingly. It was something she often did to Zola. And now, she suddenly understood why.

"I should move." Though it was the last thing she wanted, Derek could still hold her without her being on top of him.

"Absolutely not." Honestly, the weight and warmth of her was comfortable. He wouldn't be able to move much in the night, but he doubted he would anyway, seeing as Meredith was emotionally unstable at this point.

"I'll crush you."

"I'll enjoy being crushed."

Meredith wasn't about to argue. They lay silent and still for a long time before either of them fell asleep, but ultimately it was Meredith who fell asleep first. That was purposeful, on Derek's part. He didn't allow his eyes to droop until he knew she had finally fallen asleep.

The next morning, instead of sleeping in as he usually did, he rose with Meredith. She stuck closely to both Derek and Zola the whole morning. She showered while he brushed his teeth. She walked to the kitchen right on his heels. He set the pot to brew their coffee and she hovered close to his side while it percolated. When it was time for Zola to get up, she woke her up, dressed her, did her hair and made her breakfast (all of which Derek normally did, to give her more time to get ready in the morning). Derek went into work with Meredith even though he didn't have a class until 11.

Dropping Zola off at the daycare was terrible. Meredith sat on the floor outside the daycare, Zola hugged close to her for at least fifteen minutes. When Derek was finally able to convince her to let Zola go, he had to help her up, one of her hands pulled by his, the other pushing heavily off the wall.

They rode the elevator in silence, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, hers wound around his waist. Right before the elevator doors opened onto the surgical floor she turned to him, her eyes brimmed red and tear bright. "How do I look?" She asked desperately, her fingers scrubbing below her eyes.

Derek tilted his head, eyes soft, smile sad but encouraging. "You look good."

Meredith laughed disbelievingly. "Okay. Here I go."

"Okay." He kissed her cheek and then she was gone, trotting down the surgical floor.

Meredith was determined to spend the day being a doctor. She was going to do exactly what Lexie would be doing, were she still alive. Meredith was going to practice medicine and perform surgery. All day.

"Look what the cat dragged in! Meredith Grey, back from vacation." Christina. Meredith wasn't going to even attempt bright and shiney, but she would at least try to be normal.

"You're such a ray of sunshine, Christina."

Christina smirked. No one else knew it was Lexie's birthday. She preferred it that way. Then she'd be getting all these sad, pity looks. There might be a couple nurses or residents who would cry. That would just piss her off, probably. All these people crying, pretending they really liked Lexie, really knew her, really cared. Meredith hadn't always liked Lexie, but Lexie had become part of her twisted, beautiful, screwed up family.

"Grey, be a dear and take my laproscopic gastric bypass, would you?" Bailey asked from across the hall.

Meredith jumped at the opportunity for distraction. "Of course, Dr. Bailey. What room?"

"3115. Get to it, Meredith." Derek had asked Bailey to watch after Meredith. Not that Meredith ever needed to know. Bailey was good at taking care of Meredith. She'd been doing it since Meredith was a plucky intern.

Meredith checked over the chart, met the patient and scrubbed in. She stood in front of the stainless steel sink, took a breath and made her way into OR 3. She'd requested it. It was the OR where Lexie had scrubbed in with Meredith on Lexie's first solo procedure. Lexie had grinned from ear to ear when she'd found out Meredith would be the one in charge of her solo. Meredith had been very much the proud big sister. Meredith also requested Rachel, Lexie's favorite scrub nurse.

Meredith made no conversation outside of medical jargon, the whole procedure long she talked about the cuts she made, why she chose certain sutures and listed the pros and cons of laparoscopic v. regular. The intern who was assisting-Meredith didn't bother to find out who it was- didn't seem to mind too much, however.

Meredith was done within 90 minutes. She was the last to scrub out. She had found every possible excuse to remain in the OR, until she found herself completely alone. She didn't want to leave. This was a place she and Lexie shared time and smiles and laughs in. And she found that she didn't want to leave a place she could distinctly remember Lexie being in. So she just stood there, in the scrub room, staring at the tiled walls and the steel tables and the glaring lights. When she finally felt too overwhelmed to remain, she scrubbed at her fingers, her arms and her hands with a sponge. She scrubbed and scrubbed until she felt her skin become raw and red. It was like she was trying to scrub off the painfully clear sting of loss. She rinsed and shakily left.

She followed up on a few of her patients, all of whom were doing just fine. Usually, she found time to stop and chat, just for a few minutes, with each of her patients, but she couldn't tie herself down long enough to do so today. She felt off balance, felt the need to keep moving, and so she found her hands tapping at her sides, clicking incessantly at pens or drumming on the tablets they used for charting.

Bailey found her standing in front of one of the OR boards, doing just that. Her hands patted an anxious patternless beat at her own thigh. "Dr. Grey, you having trouble finding something?" She tried to go for casual.

"I'm, ah, just looking for something to do. I don't have anything scheduled, since I was supposed to be on leave. I'm kind of hoping for a MVC." She laughed nervously, her hands pat-pat-patting away.

"Scalpel hungry." Bailey pursed her lips and tried to look disapproving. "Want in on a liver resection?"

"Have you lost your interest in surgery, Dr. Bailey?" Meredith turned on her suddenly, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Bailey giving her two surgeries in one day, just for the heck of it? Highly unlikely.

"Do you want to tell me that you don't want to do this surgery, Grey?" Bailey turned on Meredith, put on her Nazi face.

"Derek put you up to this, right?" Meredith sighed.

"Meredith Grey." Bailey started in, and Meredith instinctively cringed, ready for the tongue lashing. "I am trying to do something nice, in the spirit of being a good mentor. Now, please, the very irritating man in the west wing needs a liver resection, your very loving, very nagging husband and his perfect hair need some peace of mind, and you-my very twitchy fellow- clearly need something to cut." Bailey nodded to Meredith's hand. "So go, take my surgery and solve all three of those problems." Meredith nodded, and turned to do just that, when Bailey added, "And Grey." She turned and Bailey touched her arm briefly. "I miss her too."

Meredith nodded, eyes glued to the floor. "She was...A good sister. A good doctor."

"A good person."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Mmhhm. Now stop loitering in my hallway. Go."

The rest of the day was spent much the same. Meredith, with the help of Bailey, was able to mooch off of several other surgeons, including Alex, and even got a couple of minor cases from the pit.

Meredith had often found herself lapsing into gaps of time where she sort of just stared into space, thinking of Lexie. And, although they tugged at her heartstrings considerably, she found that each time she was reminded of Lexie, she felt a little less helpless- a little less hopeless. Her silents gaps became less depressed, more contemplative.

By the end of the day, she wasn't smiling, but she wasn't the crying mess she had been. If anything, she was just a bit more quiet than anything. Alex and Christina had taken note at lunch, and cornered her about it, as they headed out to the car that evening. (Derek had taken Zola home an hour before, but not before making sure that Meredith was okay to come home later). Meredith couldn't say she hadn't been expecting Alex or Christina not to ask, but she had wondered how they'd do it. Their usual approach, which was to divide and conquer? Or perhaps they'd change it up and try to be supportive (while externally gagging at the concept) as they sometimes did?

"So, are you just not getting any lately, or what?" Christina jostled her shoulder in the hallway.

"Yeah, Mer. You were freaking catatonic at lunch today." Alex piped up from the other side of her. Ah, so today it was the gang-up-and-wear-down tactic.

Meredith shrugged. She wasn't bothered too much. It was actually kind of touching, in a verbally abusive kind of way.

"Mer, if he's not giving you any, you could always pounce him. Dudes love that." Alex added helpfully.

"Or, I guess we could just check you in to psych. Can't say I didn't see this coming." Christina input her two cents.

"Guys, I'm fine," At that they both glanced at one another and snorted. "Honestly. I was kind of having a bad day, but now...Not so much." Again, Alex and Christina shared looks and smirked. "Okay, stop that." She shoved Alex. "Christina and I are supposed to be the one sharing conspiratorial glances. Not you-although you do play girl very nicely." She smirked as he scoffed. "And you," she pointed at Christina, "Are supposed to be on my side." Christina shrugged and made her whatever-you-say face. "And both of you need to butt out of my sex life." She got a few weird glances from some residents for that.

"Touchy." Snarked Christina.

"Yeah, I thought since the plane crash we were playing 'One Big Happy Family'," Alex turned his voice sarcastically sweet for the last part of his sentence.

"You're not going to leave me alone until you find out?" Meredith didn't need the answer, but she asked anyway. Both shook their heads in agreement. She nodded, expecting nothing less. "Okay, Lexie's birthday was today, so I was feeling...I don't know, sad and nostalgic or whatever. And I sort of forgot about her for a while, but the I remembered… Anyway I did this whole stupid tribute-to-Lexie-by-doing-what-she-loved thing and… I feel better."

Both were silent for a solid minute. When the elevator arrived, it was Christina who spoke. "Well thank God I waited 'till after you sorted it all out to ask." Her tone was sarcastic, but her eyes spoke a sincere sadness for her friend, which Meredith caught onto.

"A tribute...Whatever helps, I guess." Alex nonchalantly added.

The rest of their walk to the parking lot was filled with meaningless jokes and light hearted babble about their various surgeries. But when they all made to go their separate ways, they all stopped and stared at each other. Christina moved toward Meredith first, embracing her quickly. "Night." She murmured, pulling away.

Alex slung one arm around Meredith's shoulder companionably, steering her in the direction of her car. "See you later, Grey." Meredith smiled at the two.

"Thanks, you guys. For...Well, you know." She wrinkled her nose and shrugged her shoulders, as if the whole episode hadn't meant much. It was easier to let their friendship remain as light as possible these days.

"Whatever, Mer. You're still a mess, just like always." He teased.

"And you're still an ass." She prodded back. He smiled at that, a genuine Alex grin as he headed off to his car.

"Seriously, Mer, that thing I told you about sex," She glanced from side to side, "It totally works." Christina smirked and waved, then headed to her own car.

"Butt out!" Meredith called back, smiling.

"Think about it!" Christina shouted back.

Meredith smiled all the way back to the house. She was at ease and smiling, and it felt like it had been forever since she'd done so. It felt so good she almost laughed, but, deciding she'd sound crazy, she simply smiled.

When she got home, Derek was sitting on the couch, reading a magazine.

"Zola?" Meredith asked.

"Asleep."

"Good." Meredith flung herself onto the couch and fused her lips with his. He responded enthusiastically at first, but he pulled back after a minute, concern etched into the lines on his face.

"Meredith." He was concerned that she was burying her grief by thinking about anything but Lexie. Bailey had told him that Meredith had seemed a bit subdued, but generally alright, but he had to be sure.

She kissed his lips, his cheek, his jaw. "I'm good." She managed to blurt in between kisses. "Really, I'm fine." She pulled back, to let him see her eyes. "Not usual Meredith fine, but actually fine. Surprisingly, blessedly fine." He studied her for several seconds. Once satisfied that she was telling the truth, he smiled. The grin she flashed back could have blinded. And suddenly they were kissing again, only this time, they were walking (or, more accurately, tripping) and falling into bed, laughing and clinging to each other just because they could.

A/N: So, to be honest, this is my favorite chapter I've written as of yet. Like, by a long shot.

So yeah, Bailey. Love her! She does care about Meredtih, which is why she looked after her. She's like a momma bear. She looks all tough but she does it all out of love. And that's why we love her, because she loves them in her unique and protective way.

Also, Alex and Christina. I write their interactions they way I did for one reason: they are the only interns left from their group of interns and that's because they're tough. They have to be. They hide behind all this lovely sarcasm and smirking, but they are a family. They just don't have big gushy love sessions. It's not who they are.

Anyway, I was pretty nervous about this halter, just because this is the first time I've written Alex, Cristina and Bailey. So, it'd be awesome to get some feed back on them! Critique, comments, long rants, whatever the case is, I'd love some feedback...

And, finally, baby Bailey came into being at the end of this chapter ;)


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: _Okay, first things first, I am_ so _sorry for not posting. I am well into my school year and homework, quizzes, tests and volleyball games are piling on me higher than the Empire State Building. From now on, posts are going to be spaced out further, unfortunately. Secondly, I am fudging with the timeline of season 9 here, a bit, in this chapter. I was going to stick with it, but I had an idea, and I'm running with it. Eh, that's why they call it fan_ fiction _, right? I'm allowed to fudge with things. Alright, this chapter is set a few weeks after the previous one. XOXO!_

This year was just a year full of big days. Meredith wished the world would stop. She didn't know if she could handle _another_ big day. Big days at the hospital used to excite her, fill her with a rush of adrenaline, but now, she just felt fear. Not the motivating kind of fear, either. Just the kind of fear that made her want to crawl into a linen closet and cry-which was _seriously_ irritating. There was nothing worse than feeling like crying precisely when she most needed to not cry.

 _Seriously._ Today, of all days. Why did today have to be the day she found out she was pregnant. Freaking pregnant. Today. The day Derek was going to attempt to perform an aneurysm clip for the first time since-God she was tired of thinking those words. _Since the accident. Since the crash. Since the plane. Might as well be freaking D-Day._ Well, actually, she supposed it was his second attempt at surgery _since_. The first had been, of course, the day Mark Sloan had died.

She glanced over at Derek, who was in the driver's seat trying to act as if he wasn't worried. She hadn't told him yet. Which was probably a despicable thing. She was probably a very bad wife for not telling him. But he had enough to worry about, right? And besides. Today was a big day. A huge, monumental day, despite what Derek said. And there was a very good reason Meredith had become afraid of big days-they always seemed to bring on strings of other big, scary days. Her life seemed a worthy testament to what she considered a healthy fear.

That was not to say that she wasn't pleasantly thrilled (though hugely terrified) that she was pregnant. Though she had not voiced so to Derek, she had basically given up on having a baby. She had accepted the fact that she was not going to have any other kids besides Zola.

Except now she was pregnant. On Derek's Big Day Back. She pushed the thought from her mind. She had nine months to worry about that (given that she wasn't struck with more of the world's special brand of bad luck which seemed to plague she and Derek). Right now, the pressing issue was that Derek was attempting to perform a surgery which Meredith was reasonably sure he wouldn't be able to do. Even worse-she couldn't tell anyone that she knew he couldn't do it- that really _would_ make her a bad wife.

Not only that, but she had to be full out cheerleader knowing that he was refusing the nerve operation which could give him back the ability to do such a procedure as the one she knew he would be unable to do today.

So, in spite of everything (and she did feel as though everything was not a large exaggeration) she had to be supportive and smiley and bright and shiney for her husband, in full knowledge that he would was going to be utterly dismayed and depressed by the end of the day. _Great._ She wished-not for the first time-that she was an optimist. Optimists had bright and shiney outlooks on life. _Screw optimists._

Derek was doing everything he could to keep his eyes on the road, to keep a steady but comfortable grip on the steering wheel, and to project a calm, confident demeanor.

Internally, he was a whirlwind of doubt and hope, fear and determination. His first attempt back into surgery had been a humiliating, painful wake up call. But he had worked hard since then, had had a couple of surgeries, and had done lots of physical therapy. This time would be different. Probably. Hopefully. If he was lucky-and he did consider himself pretty lucky. Afterall, he had a beautiful wife, a perfect daughter. He'd survived the last few years which were full of anguish and disasters. He had survived. That was luck. Of the seven people on the plane, he had been one of the five to live. That seemed pretty damned lucky to him.

He could practically feel the waves of nervous energy rolling between himself and Meredith. She was nervous for him. He could tell that, as plain as day. She was doing a remarkable job of covering it up, though, and he appreciated that. She was doing everything she could to be hopeful and helpful. He loved her for that. He couldn't even be upset that she was so nervous about his surgery. In some ways, he thought she might be more nervous than he was about the whole thing. But she wasn't trying to talk him out of it. She wasn't telling him that he wasn't ready, or that he couldn't do it, as he had heard some whisper in the hospital. No, Meredith was smiling at all the right times, saying all the right things. He smiled, shaking his head. _Yeah. Definitely lucky._

The surgery was scheduled for five that evening. He was teaching in the morning, but had cleared everything after noon to allow himself time to practice in the skills lab. Meredith had surgeries scheduled for the morning and early afternoon, but had likewise cleared the five o'clock slot on her OR board to scrub in with him. Yes. Meredith was scrubbing in on his neuro case. It had been years since she had, but he wasn't worried. He knew Meredith remembered all her neuro training (and everything that had gone along with it) from her residency days.

When five o'clock finally rolled around, Meredith knew it-but not because she checked her watch. In fact, she was such a tightly wound ball of nerves (and had been so for at least the past hour and a half) that she had outright refused to look at her watch. Or any other time indicator. She flat out refused. She ducked her head in hallways when she passed clocks. She had turned her cell phone off, so she had no excuse to accidentally see the time. She had purposely changed into long sleeves so as to prevent herself from checking her wrist.

No, all she had to do was stroll through the hall-a hall which was normally swarming with interns, residents, attendings, nurses and patients- only to find it eerily quiet. It was like someone had hit the fire alarm, and the hallway had been evacuated. A lone nurse sat at her station, scanning charts. She could hear the faint buzz of a crowd far off, knew that if she turned the corner, she'd see them huddling around the OR board with Derek Christopher Shepherd's glorious name scrawled across it.

What's more, she knew that they'd all be talking, and that if she entered their midst, there would be a hush. One that questioned, nagged, prodded, bombarded. She turned on her heel and strode back down the hall. God, she couldn't face them. She'd have to be supportive. She could lie-was well versed at lying-but not to so many, and not about this. She needed to breathe. She had to be well composed, happy, and confident for Derek. He _needed_ this.

She ducked into one of the practice labs, leaned heavily on the door. She needed to breathe. God, this kind of stress could not be good for the baby. She needed to breathe not only for Derek, now, but for their child also. The thought did nothing to slow her pulse.

"You could just tell me you didn't want to scrub in."

Meredith gasped, shocked and stunned. "Derek, I-"

"It's alright, I can find someone else to assist me." His tone was humorless, compassionless. Dull.

"Derek, I want to be there-"

"But you don't want to watch me fail."

"No I-" But she stopped herself this time. She could lie. But not about this, and not to him.

"You don't think I can do this."

"I hope more than anything that you can," She avoided his question.

"But you don't think I can do this." Meredith was about to refute with another non-answer, but Derek cut in, "Save it. Just tell me. You don't think I can perform this surgery, do you, Meredith?"

Meredith shrank into herself, meeting his piercing gaze shyly. "No."

Derek nodded, his eyes darting from hers jerkily. "Right. I'll call Brooks. She'll assist. I'll see you at home." He stood, pulled on his lab coat righteously. "Don't worry, I won't burden you with hoping you'll watch me fail from the OR gallery. You can just suffer through hearing about it tomorrow."

He stormed toward the door, which she was still pressed against. He stopped just before her, eyes fixed resolutely above her head. His teeth were clenched, and a muscle in his jaw jumped to relay the sense of betrayal he felt. "Excuse me."

"Derek."

"I said, _excuse me._ " His voice was all venom and vinegar. He still refused to meet her gaze.

A sense of indignation swelled within Meredith like a raging case of heartburn. She had every right to be scared. They both knew how personally Derek took his work. How much failure, defeat and mistakes affected him personally. How much pain it caused him-pain which he was known to take out upon others. He'd done it before-their proposal, marriage and entire relationship had taken a huge blow the last time his ego had.

He'd killed a pregnant woman during their clinical trial, and he'd run off to the woods, had hit his ring-no, _her_ ring- deep into the depths of his own property. He'd recklessly endangered his life each time he'd stepped into the driver's seat of an automobile after he'd killed a man's wife and been shot for it. Why _shouldn't_ she be worried? She was his wife-that was what she was supposed to do!

"Derek, don't speak to me like that, or so help me, I-"

"What? Don't speak to you like what? Condescendingly? Oh, no, I can't imagine how _horrible_ that would be." Derek spat, turning and pacing back into the lab. "No, that would be awful of me. Truly unforgivable."

"I wasn't being condescending."

"Babying me, appeasing me by lying to me, saying I could do it- because you can, and you know I _can't_? That is the very definition of condescending." His hands were in the air, his eyes blazing.

"If I told you that you couldn't do it, I'd be a bad person for telling you that-for being unsupportive. If I told you that you could do it, I'd a bad person because I'm lying. Those were my two options. I went for what I thought would be best for you."

"You went with what you thought would be best for _you._ "

"Oh my God. We're back to this? See, Derek, this is case in point. This is exactly why I told you that you could do it, despite what I believed. I did what I thought was best. I did. I always do, and you know that. But when my best is wrong-no matter how well intentioned it is- you can't handle it. It's like, I'm not allowed to have faults-or at least, not faults that would make you look bad. I'm trying to keep my husband emotionally stable, which, if anybody found out, would make you look weak, right? Your male ego can't take that I'm looking after you. Good God, Derek, wake up and smell the reality. You are refusing a nerve transplant, but insisting on trying to go back into surgery with, what, 60 percent function?"

"This has nothing to do with my _male ego_." He hissed indignantly.

"But it _does._ Derek, it does. You want to be a hundred percent. You want to be Derek Shepherd, Neurogod extraordinaire. You want to be the big surgeon in the house. That's fine Derek, I don't fault you for that. You _should_ want that. _I_ want that. But you can't do it today, you can't do it without that nerve transplant and you can't do it by yelling your frustrations at me."

Derek's breath raked in and out of his trachea painfully. Her words made since, but he didn't want them to. He just wanted to be angry. Or better. One or the other. And he had chosen angry, since better wasn't an option.

"I am not going to scrub in with you. But, I'm not going to erase your name from the OR board either. I'm just going to-" Meredith sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly terribly aware of the pang in her lower abdomen which was now just filtering into her consciousness, "I'm just going to sit down for a while." Meredith decided, slumping carefully to the floor. It all of the sudden occurred to her that she hadn't slept at all the night before, and that her morning had been spent running back and forth on a particularly busy ER shift. It also just now occurred that strenuous work and extreme stress or high blood pressure could cause preterm labor and miscarriage.

Meredith's sudden loss of fight and pale complexion were not lost on Derek. She looked very near puking. Just like that, his anger melted away. "Meredith?" She picked her head up dreadfully slowly, and with what Derek could tell was extreme effort on her part. He quickly crouched before her, his hand flicking to feel her forehead, which was damp and burning up. "Meredith?" He asked again, one hand patting a cheek gently, the other reaching two fingers toward her wrist, as he checked his own for a watch. He didn't need to count to know that her pulse was racing.

"This is not how I wanted to tell you, but-" She gasped again, eyes squeezing shut, "Derek, I'm pregnant."

 _A/N: So, yeah, obviously I'm not really following the storyline or the timeline of the story's respective season anymore. If I had a lot more free time, or a photographic memory (where's Lexie when you need her?) than I probably would have, but as it is, I sort of like this deviation. And besides, I'm not going to completely stray from the season's plot. Merely deviate._

 _Anyway, thank you so much for all of you who have been reading and reviewing, especially those who have been so encouraging. You guys are my heroes! Please read and review!_

 _Love you! XOXO._


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N: Hey... Yeah. It's been too long. I had a few personal emergencies come up which required my full attention. The worst part is, I already had this chapter written, and I just forgot to post it. But there should be another chapter coming up either today or tomorrow, so don't worry!_**

 **Derek gaped, mouth wide, eyes like saucers. It was only when Meredith whimpered that he swung into action. He put one arm behind her shoulders, one hooked under her knees. "Ah, no, Derek. Please don't carry me-" But he lifted up. Only to feel a shooting pain up his left arm so sharp that he nearly dropped her. Derek scanned the room and found a lone (probably broken) wheelchair in the corner. It would have to do-he couldn't hold her much longer. Though almost all of his attention was focused on Meredith, a little twinge in the back of his brain told him that he might be able to lift his tiny wife had he gotten the nerve repair.**

 **"** **I'm fine, Derek, don't take me anywhere. Just give me a minute." Her small hands gripped at the arms of the chair with a death grip.**

 **"** **Sorry, not going to happen." His brain was on overdrive, keen on ending Meredith's obvious pain.**

 **"** **Derek, I can't go out in that hallway looking like this." Meredith's eyes pleaded. She blew a breath past her teeth, then sucked one back in through her nose.**

 **"** **That's not really what we should be concerned with at this point. You're pregnant. And having abdominal pain." Sparks flew in his brain at the word** ** _pregnant_** **. Meredith was pregnant. If not in the current situation, he'd be smiling right now.**

 **Meredith nodded, the pain lessening. "I know, I just...I don't want anyone to know. You know? If this is going bad already, I just…" She rolled her eyes, unable to form exactly what she felt into words. "If everybody knew they'd-" She sighed again. "I'm already terrified as it is, Derek. I don't need the world asking me questions to answers I haven't even considered yet, or congratulations getting my hopes up or worried looks scaring the hell out of me. I-"**

 **"** **Alright, Meredith. Alright, you're fine. It's fine. We'll stay here. You're fine." Derek switched tactics, from coercing and controlling to comforting. If he'd learned anything from his neonatal surgeon wife, Addison, it was that a calm pregnant lady was in** ** _much_** **better shape than a** ** _panicky_** **pregnant lady.**

 **Derek crouched beside the wheelchair-kneeling wouldn't allow for an easy exit if he needed to leap into action. He slipped one of his hands into hers, guiding it from its iron grip on the arm of the chair. With the other hand he brushed her hair, fingertips gliding through the silky strands. There were few tangles-her hair was too fine- but the few he found he deftly but gently unknotted. Every once in awhile he stopped his brushing to pet her cheek or trace her eyebrows or glide a finger down her nose- just easy, silly little things that made the situation feel less scary. Less like he was struggling to calm her before any harm came to the baby, more like they were laying in bed, snuggling and joking.**

 **Meredith's breathing soon became even, and a little color returned to her cheeks. "It doesn't hurt anymore." Her eyes flew wide, "Is that a bad thing?"**

 **"** **No. No, I don't think so."**

 **He paged an OB that Addison had once spoke highly of, Dr. Trenton. Task done, he turned back to Meredith, who looked like she was trying to stand up. "Jeez, Meredith." His arms flew to steady her as she swayed on her feet. After a moment of support, she indicated that she could stand without help.**

 **"** **Do you always have to be so stubborn?"**

 **"** **I bounce back quick." Meredith countered, although there was little humor in her voice. Most of her focus was still zeroed in on standing.**

 **Derek shook his head disapprovingly though his lips twitched into a smile. Trust Meredith to be sarcastic even when she's scared beyond belief. "Alright, let's go get this checked out." Meredith groped for his arm, leaning on it heavily upon finding it.**

 **She walked slowly, one arm around his waist, one gripping his arm for balance. Derek likewise threw an arm around her waist, steadying her. To any observer it looked as if she was merely tired and leaning on her husband after a long shift. To Meredith, it was the only way she'd make it down without the use of a wheelchair or gurney.**

 **A long walk and a short elevator trip later, they were seated in an exam room (Meredith only assumed that the page Derek had received in the elevator had told him to meet here). With no small amount of assistance from Derek, Meredith had changed into a hospital gown and was seated on the exam table.**

 **Dr. Trenton entered. Meredith immediately assessed-she was a middle aged but attractive blonde woman. Her teeth, hair and nails were perfectly whitened, brushed and clipped respectively. She stretched a hand, first toward Meredith then to Derek as she made her introductions.**

 **"** **What seems to be the problem?" Her smile was the kind that every good doctor learned to perfect-one that put a patient at ease, was strong, but didn't give off the impression of being goofy or incompetent.**

 **"** **I just started having these sharp abdominal pains."**

 **"** **How far along are you?"  
** **"** **No more than a month. I just found out today." Dr. Trenton nodded, taking down notes in a scrawly script.**

 **"** **Well, congratulations, then." She smiled up but was quickly back to business, "Have you had any alcohol or tobacco or anything?"**

 **"** **No."**

 **"** **Has anything occurred today that might have been particularly stressful? Anymore than usual, I mean." She indicated her awareness of Meredith and Derek's profession with a pen pointed to the latter's scrubs.**

 **"** **Uh." Meredith glanced back at Derek nervously, his eyes at once flooded with guilt. "Yeah. Yeah, I was pretty stressed today."**

 **"** **Okay." Dr. Trenton nodded, and finished her notes with a flourish. "I'm going to take a quick look and see what we find, but as far as I'm concerned, you were having a stress related episode. It happens sometimes-your body is trying to adjust to living for two people now, which can be a startling transition. I'd avoid as much unnecessary stress as possible, although, in your line of work, I don't know how successful you be with that."**

 **"** **I'm not going to be able to do the surgery. Something came up. I don't know, get Nelson to do it. No, don't reschedule it, just have someone else do it. Yeah. Yeah, I know. Alright. Thanks." Derek rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and with the other, pressed his cell to his ear. Meredith couldn't help but be disappointed for him, despite the fact that she hadn't wanted him to do the aneurysm clip. He had been really looking forward to it.**

 **On the other hand, Meredith couldn't help but be flooded with relief. The check up had gone without a hitch, although Meredith and Derek hadn't seen the ultrasound. They decided they'd wait until the baby was more fully developed. To be honest, Meredith had just been scared that if she'd seen the ultrasound she'd start to get emotionally attached. That sounded horrible, she knew, but she did have a** ** _hostile uterus_** **. She didn't want to get overly comfortable or excited lest she be heartbroken, which was a keen possibility.**

 **Derek slipped into the driver's seat, cell phone stashed in the front pocket of his jeans. He sighed, placed his hands on the 10 and 2 positions, his head pressing back into the headrest. Meredith tilted her body toward him, the left half of her body leaned against the chair. "I'm sorry, Derek." She was. Despite everything, she hated that he didn't have the chance to try. Who knew? Derek was an incredible surgeon. He might have pulled through and done the surgery.**

 **"** **It's-" He stopped, head shaking without lifting from the seat. "Yeah, it's fine. All while I was practicing, I was able to do it, but I was constantly having to roll my wrist to relieve the ache. I wasn't trembling or anything, but…" He met Meredith's shy, slightly shameful gaze. "I'm not at my best. My patients deserve to have a surgeon who is performing at his best."**

 **Meredith nodded, but she frowned sadly anyway. "I'm sorry. That all of this happened to you. I'm sorry that I-" She shook her head, tears glistening unbidden in her eyes. "I'm just really sorry."**

 **He ran a hand along her shoulder. "Let's go home." Meredith only nodded.**

 **The car ride home was quiet, offset only by the dimmed murmur of the radio set whose volume was only one notch above mute. Dinner (hamburger helper, whipped up haphazardly by Derek) was spent asking Zola questions about daycare, and avoiding any conversations about the day's events. Dinner was followed immediately by bath time for the little girl, which was proceeded by teeth brushing and a quick story time in which Derek and Meredith took turns voicing characters from a Berenstein Bears book.**

 **The next order of business for Meredith was a bath. A hot bath full of bubbles and aromatherapy candles. And, eventually, Derek. Meredith sat with her back against one end, Derek sat with his back against the opposite end. Their calves and ankles pressed against each others's.**

 **Meredith sank deeper into the steamy water, head coming to a rest on the back of the tub, eyes and ankles in constant contact with those of her fellow bather. "When were you going to tell me?" Derek asked quietly, though not accusingly.**

 **"** **I was going to tell you either after the surgery or tomorrow. I didn't want to distract you before the surgery. And if-"**

 **"** **If I hadn't done the surgery, it would have been something you could have told me to cheer me up." Derek cut in calmly.**

 **Meredith nodded, shameful. Out loud and coming from his mouth, it sounded a lot more manipulative than she had meant it to be. "Hey," Derek knocked his knee against hers. "That's okay, I'm not mad. It makes since. Plus," He broke into the boyish grin she adored so much, "You're pregnant." He slapped playfully at her knee several times. "Pregnant!"**

 **Derek's excitement was infectious. Meredith couldn't help but laugh. Derek's grin widened (if that was possible). "How are we going to tell Zola? I wonder if it's a boy or a girl. God, this is going to be great."**

 **"** **Slow down there, cowboy." Meredith scolded affectionately. A hundred fears, doubts and worries prodded at the edges of her big happy bubble, but she was determined to remain in the delightful, giddy place she was in for as long as possible.**

 **"** **I wonder if it'll play baseball? What will it's favorite color be? Will Zola have a baby sister, or a baby brother?" Derek tossed out more questions, goading retaliation. Meredith obliged, scooping up a handful of soapy bubbles and slicking them through Derek's hair, which he had purposely kept dry. For good measure, she aggressively ruffled his hair, ensuring that he would not be able to flick his perfect locks back into place as he usually did.**

 **Derek spluttered indignantly. He threw his head toward the mirror, only to shoot a mock glare back at Meredith. "You went too far this time, Meredith. Too far." Meredith's loud giggles were cut abruptly as a hand closed around her ankle and dragged her under the water. She came up spitting water and rubbing at her eyes.**

 **"** **Derek!" She sent a tidal wave of hot water and lavender scented bubbles soaring into his face.**

 **"** **You are** ** _so_** **dead." Derek slapped water back at her. For the next several minutes, the bathroom was filled with the loud sounds of sloshing water, squeals and gasps, splutters and laughs. After the noise had subsided and the little water that had managed to remain in the bath tub was drained, the floor was covered in sopping towels strewn across the tile floor.**

 **Derek and Meredith curled tightly around each other in bed that night. Derek kept whispering outlandish possible baby names, sending Meredith into fits of giggling. Wrapped securely in Derek's arms, Meredith slept soundly.**

 _ **A/N: Yay! Happy fluffy ending! WOOOT! Sorry for the excessive fluff. There will be more plot coming, I promise. :) Thanks for reading and commenting, you guys!**_


	9. Chapter 9

Meredith was a doctor. A tried and true, badass, surgery god. A surgeon's surgeon. She'd done countless solo procedures, had hundreds of successes. She could perform a Carotid Artery Endarterectomy blindfolded.

But this was hard. Very hard. Probably the hardest thing she'd ever done. (Well, that probably wasn't true-but in the moment it _totally_ felt that way). Which was stupid, because she was supposed to feel unstoppable, in control and calm in a hospital. In the hospital-her hospital-of all places, she was feeling the exact _opposite_ of unstoppable, in control and calm. Why was sitting in a waiting room so frieking hard?!

"Mer, stop freaking out. In two months you're going to be back to complaining about how great your surgical messiah of a husband is in the O.R. and you'll be cursing the day you told him to get this operation." Meredith didn't react, so Christina added, "Seriously, Mer. He's going to be fine."

The hard plastic of the waiting room chair dug into Meredith's still thighs and back and she strained to find a more comfortable position, but the unyielding chair offered no such possibility. Briefly she considered proposing purchasing more comfortable seating to the hospital board, but she knew that A: the hospital was broke (after all, she and her friends had made it that way and B: no amount of cushy chairs would make waiting for news of a sick, injured or critical friend or family member any more comfortable.

Dully she thanked God that she spend more of her time in the O.R. than in the waiting room. Frankly, it was much less stressful.

After what felt like hours, Jo came trotting up, hair immaculate, light blue scrubs pristine to the point that Meredith was half convinced she had them pressed. She took a quick glance down and almost rolled her eyes. Her own navy blue scrubs were wrinkled beyond belief. She could feel her hair sticking out in all directions, locks haphazardly fleeing from the messy bun in which she had hastily put them. She knew without looking that she had bags under her eyes-it didn't help that she had neglected to put make-up on that morning, in her haste to get Zola to daycare and drive Derek to Grey-Sloan.

"Um, Dr. Grey?" Jo, characteristically known as one of the toughest, most confident residents still treaded softly when speaking to Meredith. Medusa's reputation was quite well established. "Dr. Torres told me to tell you that Lizzie left surgery about an hour ago, is in Recovery and should be awake soon and that Dr. Shepperd has just left the OR." She nodded. Christina scowled at her, prompting her to assure, "Oh, and he did great. Everything went smooth. He's in room 312"

"Thank you, Wilson." Meredith nodded in her direction, but her eyes were glued on her watch-checking to see that the surgery hadn't gone longer (and therefore been more complicated) than Callie had originally estimated. Two and half hours to the minute, just as Callie said. When Meredith looked up with a sigh of relief, she was surprised to see Wilson still standing in front of her. She shared a quick look with Christina, who made a face that clearly said _do you want me to get her the hell away from here? I can get her the hell away from here._

Meredith shook her head, turning back to Wilson. "Is there anything else Wilson?"

"I was going to take you to see him, Dr. Grey."

"I've been at this hospital for eight years, I know where room 312 is, Wilson."

"Right...Sorry. I'm just going to...go do some charts." Jo scuttled off muttering to herself under her breath.

"Were we that clueless as residents, Meredith? Jesus, I think we knew more as interns than this new batch of babies knows." Christina's judgement came as a well intentioned but flat attempt to lighten Meredith's mood.

"Christina, stop hovering. Go do doctor-y stuff. I'll be fine. I'm going to go check on Derek and Lizzie."

Christina looked like she was considering putting up a fight, but then decided, "Okay, I need food anyway-I have a surgery scheduled in half an hour."

Fighting every urge in her body, she steered herself into Lizzie's room. Lizzie was awake and (somewhat) alert.

"God, I can't believe I let you talk me into this." She said, motioning to the bandages wrapped securely around her leg.

Speechless, Meredith gaped like a dead fish. Her brain was fried. She was worried about Derek. She was thankful that Lizzie donated her nerve, but she was reluctant to talk to her, and now _this?_ Meredith did not have time, energy or brainpower to take care of this properly.

"Jesus, he said you were serious. I was joking, Meredith. I can't even feel anything. Whatever drugs they have me on, they are _good._ " Lizzie said mercifully.

Meredith forced a smile. She was so anti social it hurt. _Pretend she's a patient._ Meredith instructed herself. She had only ever been able to relate to two groups of people-friends and people in pain. "Look, Elizabeth," Meredith began.

"Lizzie." Derek's sister interjected politely.

"Lizzie," Meredith smiled self consciously. "It was really great of you to do this. I mean, it's really brave and…" She sighed, rolling her eyes. The being nice thing wasn't working, and it showed all over Lizzie's face. "Lizzie. I'm not good with people. Derek, he's a talker, he must have told you that. I'm not good with people. I'm just good with Christina. Christina and Derek. And you just did something for Derek that I couldn't. Something that is extremely important to him. And even though he's too stubborn to say thanks, I'm not. Not this time. So thanks. For, you know, going under the knife and everything."

Lizzie laughed, her head pressing back into her pillow. "He said that you babble when you're nervous. He thinks it's really cute when you babble. Which it is."

Meredith stared at the bedsheets.

"What I meant to say was that you're welcome." Lizzie reached out, placed a hand on Meredith's wrist. "And thanks. For taking care of my brother, by calling me, doing what he wouldn't do to get himself better. Thanks for looking after him like that."

Meredith met Lizzie's eyes and smiled.

"Alright, go check on him. Leave me here to suffer silently. Just don't be too loud with your tearful reunion. I'm only one room over," Lizzie winked conspiratorially.

Smiling Meredith only half jokingly replied, "I'll send my best intern to wait on you."

The talk with Lizzie had allayed some of Meredith's anxiety, but the minute she turned the corner into Derek's room. She was once again filled with a trepidation which sunk bone deep, chilling Derek was, asleep in a hospital bed. His arm was splinted and heavily bandaged, and resting above the covers. The rest of his body was tucked securely under the thin hospital blankets.

Adorably, his hair was still within the confines of a hairnet. She snuck closer to his bed. She knew from personal experience that one of the worst feelings in the world is the one that a person undergoes when waking up post-op. Like struggling to the surface of a swimming pool filled with sand, waking up is more than just the struggle to open your eyes, to reach the surface, but also a struggle to force yourself to regain control of your body. A body that would much rather sleep off the nausea, pain, and incredibly dry throat and mouth. Not to mention the brain to mouth disconnect which makes every single sentence a battle with a lexicon army.

She freed his precious locks of the blue meshing, gently dragging her fingers through the curls, trying to put them back into some semblance of his flawless hairdo. Honestly, it was a wonder he didn't just stare at himself and his wonderful mane everyday. If she had the choice, that is certainly what she would do.

When she was almost sure that she had combed his hair out enough to the point where he wouldn't die of the embarrassment of a bad hair day, Callie walked in, charts in hand.

Meredith ran to her like she was the last shot glass of tequila after a long day. "How did it go?"

"The graft went in perfectly. Couldn't have gone better. It was actually kind of some of the best work I've ever done."

"Kind of?" Meredith shrilled.

"No-no, it was definitely my best work." Callie amended swiftly, attuned to Meredith's hovery, overprotective mood.

"There was plenty of slack? You made sure there wouldn't be too much tension on the nerve, right? And you've got him on anti-inflammatories?"

"Meredith, I've done this once or twice, you know. I've got everything under control." Callie tried not to be offended by what seemed to be a total lack of faith on Meredith's part. She tried to remember that this was her husband, and that as a doctor, Meredith was more in tune to the risks of surgery than others. She tried very hard.

"What about risk of infection?"

"Derek is going to be fine, okay? This whole hospital is full of doctors who are going to check on him hourly if that's what it takes. Derek is going to be fine."

"Meredith, leave the poor woman alone." A voice sounded behind the women. The two turned to see Derek, blinking slowly, smiling ever so slightly. Meredith was at his side in a split second, hands fluttering over his face, his shoulders and down his chest.

"Hey, Derek, how are you feeling?" Callie asked calmly.

"Kind of like I just let my friend cut me open." He rasped hoarsely.

Meredith offered her husband a few ice chips on a spoon. Gratefully, he nodded and accepted the offering. He squeezed Meredith's free hand with his uninjured one.

"I'll be back to check on you in a few. Call if you need anything. And hit up the nurses for some ice cream. A little bird told me they just so happened to have a batch of cookies and cream lying around." Callie flounced away with a smile and a wink.

"Since when do we serve Cookies and Cream ice cream to patients?" Derek asked, humor leaking through the grogginess. He looked tired but free of pain, which Meredith was eternally grateful for.

"Since we own this hospital and they cut you up."

"Ah, so there are some perks."

Meredith smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Derek shook his head at her, letting her know that he disapproved of her worrying so much. He patted the right side of his bed, inviting her to lay down with him. He may have been the one under the knife, but she had been the one to stay awake and suffer through it. He had the easy way out- anesthesia, God bless it.

Meredith readily took him up on his offer, slipping in between his good arm and the edge of the bed, laying on her side, and resting her head above his on the pillow.

Their hands met, and fingers intertwined- an involuntary reflex, as natural and necessary as breathing. With her other hand, she stroked at his hair, breathing in deep lung fulls of his shampoo.

Derek rested his head on her shoulder content to let her work her worries out on his tangled hair. It wasn't often that he let himself be taken care of by her. Nor did she often let him take care of her. It was just in their nature- they both, stubborn as they were, liked being the strongest person in the room. And the most obvious way they had of proving they were the strongest? Taking care of themselves.

But Derek decided that in the face of everything that had happened recently, it was good for them to be like this. To let each other worry, dote on and hover. Plus, she always kind of drug her fingertips along his scalp and massaged around his temples when she played with his hair. And it felt _really_ nice.

He clasped her hand a little tighter.

"You're going to be alright. Everything is going to turn out fine." Meredith whispered into his hair.

Derek thought about being witty and sarcastic, but decided against it. "I know. No matter what, everything is going to work itself out. That's what we do. We take impossible and we give it some of it's own medicine."

"I'm glad you said that because I am not excited about changing all the dirty diapers this kid is going to make all on my own." She pointed to her stomach unceremoniously. "One hand or not, you are changing some diapers."

"I'll be the one handed wonder dad. Changing diapers at lightning speed." Meredith laughed at that. The sound, the feeling of her chest rising and falling against his arm, they were like balm to him. They were like pain killers, better than morphine-soothing without dulling.

"Zola will finally have a pirate dad with a real hook." Meredith joined it.

Derek chuckled softly, running his good hand up and down her leg in a soothing fashion. He could still feel the anxiety pouring off her. Similarly, she knew that for all his joking, he was scared out of his wits.

"Seriously."

"Seriously. I have a lot of physical therapy ahead of me."

"I have a lot of really encouraging speeches prepared." She smiled into his temple, placing little kisses there.

He kind of nuzzled into her, sighing. They had a baby on the way. They had Zola. He had Meredith. They had a beautiful house. These certainly weren't the worst prospects he'd ever been faced with.

Meredith closed her eyes. So yeah, this was far from over. And yeah, they still had a lot on their plates. When didn't they? But they were alive, and they were healing and they had hope. Like, actual hope.

Meredith sunk a little deeper into the bed, her feet deftly dug under the blankets until her bottom half was tucked beneath the sheets. Derek pressed a button on the side of the bed, plunging the room into darkness.

It was not hard for either surgeon-the one who had stayed up all night worrying and the one who was still brain dead from a good batch of drugs- to fall asleep. Nor was it lost on either one that, for the first time, they slept without any lights on.

 **A/N: Okay, yeah, that's the end. I really didn't want to end it this way, but I've left this story unfinished for too long. Maybe later when I have more time I'll revisit the story or write a sequel. Anyway, I hope you liked it and I hope I didn't make you too mad with the ridiculously slow updates. As always, thanks for reading please Review!**


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